His skull
like the ivory of a shattered tusk
smooth
hard
the still-moist dull gleam of cream
lining the torn-apart flesh

Clean

Look inside the head
its void
the most inner part exposed

The white of the bone

Free from the marrow of the chaos
the thoughts inside contained

Clean

The hollow warmth of its hue

You won't see
where the bullet burst
through the top of his head
like a boiled potato
lying in its skin
gashed across
and squeezed on all sides

If you look at the white of the bone

Closer, closer

Just look at the white of the bone

Sometimes I
  pray for dawn,
    for this city
     to wake up
      & release a
   cacophony of
noise, for
engines to start
   & kettles to boil,
    for workers to
     drill huge holes
    in dirt roads,
anything but this 
   silent abyss
     that makes me
   want to flee
 mid sleep,
steal a car;
 ignite a spark
    in a never
        ending dark

This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along

sweet
release!
finally able
to get myself off.
maybe
the depression
is waning.
maybe
I am finding light
in the dark places.
never been more thankful
for ******
in my life.

as long as I can have *******,
if nothing else,
this life is worth living.
give me back
my lust.
that is what I will
steal
back
first.
lust is passion
getting
passion
back.
I will always live
with you

you are like
the racist grandmother
who I
am forced to take care of.
can't just
get rid of you
have to wait
till you die.
wondering
how
someone
something
so negative
could be a part
of my heritage
myself
oh, well
I have finally
found a way
to shut
you up.
tune
you out.

love you
at times
for making me
aware
of my flaws.
though
I will not
be consumed
by them.
I have strengths
too.

cheers to
the shred of hope
the light
I glimpse
as I'm trying
to find
my way out
of this cave
I've been lost in
for weeks.
the cave
of depression.
******
is the light.

laughing
laughing that
something so ridiculous
could have shown me
maybe
I am getting better
maybe
it's not entirely
all bad.
laugh
with me
***
with me
we will
get out
of this mess.

the soft,
farmiliar
fuzziness
of your blanket.
the humbling
wall art
comforting
house
a place
where you feel
safe.

the movie
starts.

walls
become tall
narrow,
you never noticed
the way the
darkness
lingers
in the far back corner
so that you
are never quite sure
of what
could be hiding there.

even after
you turn on the lights
you still
tiptoe
through the hallway
peeking
at every turn
swear
you heard something
swear
it's hiding
waiting to get you
scamper
to your bedroom
lock
the door
fall asleep
with the lights on

little did you know
it appears
when you are
asleep.
lurking
watching your every
toss and turn
waiting
for the perfect chance
to strike.

don't
close your eyes
don't
sleep
it will
devour
you.

My body is a temple and my God,
It's starving.
Its edges are still trimmed with ash
From the fire that seeped through paper skin.
If you look closely enough,
You might get lucky and find shards of
Glass from bones
Shattered under
The weight of a heart of
Stone.
Follow my cells like a roadmap
Because I honestly could not
Give you my last nerve.
Look deeper and fall into pits
Of words buried underneath
The soul I misplaced so long ago.
Let me know if you find that promise
That got lost along the way.
I've been meaning to give it back.

you don't get permission to spiral out of control
just because it's october.
you don't have time to wax poetic about your soul falling out through your fingertips
or whatever words fit the you you're wearing this week.
**** it up.
drink some coffee.

this will be over by christmas.

my hands are not
soft things that you can hold onto and
even at my sweetest i'm less like honey and
more like old kool-aid and i'll
stain your lips and fingers blue
like the inky thing that slithers up my spine.

i don't remember what it's like to breathe easy.

i like the way your hands shake
and that's a weird thing to like
but i am much more cactus than flower
and i am not afraid of edges and shards.

you swallow smoke the way
i swallow metal and
wanting you makes me feel
sick again.

you loved me
the way i love dirt.
like a promise,
a glimmering spark,
a catch on the inhale.
a soft and malleable thing
glowing faintly from its core.

you loved me like i love
dusty records and animal bones.
you loved me ephemera,
your glittering oddity,
your very best party trick.
i loved you all the magic
i could muster.

i loved you
every star i'd ever counted and
the memory of falling and
the shapes of all my favorite words.
you loved me
pheromones and
midmorning drunk dials.

you prayed and you promised and
you slipped your shaky fingers
five fathoms deep beneath my skin
and tenderly uprooted my veins.
you sweetly cracked
my ribcage wide and
picked all the seeds from my guts.
you lit up my new hollows
and found you hated
clean white walls.
you never quite forgave
the way i let you ****
the parts of me that you
knew how to love.
i loved you flooded lungs and
atheist's prayers
and never enough.

you loved me
the way i love dirt,
and sometimes in my dreams,
i cover you in daisies
and weeds
and trees with tough roots.
i watch the wild things
climb high and nest in the branches
stretching out from your ribcage,
wildflowers tangling their roots
through your bones,
your body a home
at last.